Gamma Fiend

Wolfbrothers and Thief-takers are village only roles, hence why they're in green in the role list. Apologies if I forgot to specify that. >.> And as far as Fain goes.... PAFO.

Yeah, yeah, whatever. Thought of that after the game. Oh well. This game has plenty enough flavor as is!

Also, big announcement! Please welcome Joe to the game, taking the place of Nyali as a pinch-hitter! I apologize again for the slight hiccup, but now everything should be running smoothly again! So don't forget to stab/lynch welcome Joe to the game! And remember, be friendly!

Write-up posted for your reading pleasure!

Reserved for later. Also, I am going to extend the Night Cycle, to help push the rollover back to a reasonable time, and to work with my new work schedule! Night lasts until 9PM EST Thursday the 9th! Edit: bloody ashes, people! You were all waiting on this, I couldn't even get a reserved post up in time! XD Also, PMs may be made and continued until the Day rollover!

Long Game 22, Night 2: Six Feet Under Dirt Gunshy sat behind the counter of his store, bored and waiting for something to happen. The day had seemed to drag on, with more and more people trying to raise up a storm and cause a ruckus, trying to find the darkfriends and the light knew what else. It wasn't for the first time during the day that Gunshy had to fight down the urge to go and find a random villager and bury them six feet under, just to try and put a stop to the noise and commotion. But no, that wouldn't be a good use of his dirt. Not when he could sell it to unsuspecting village fools. He shook his head, wondering again who would actually pay for dirt with their hard earned money. Did the bloody fools not realize there was literal tons of the stuff right underneath their feet? To be fair, I haven't made the smartest bloody decisions with my life either, he solemnly reflected. Gunshy reached underneath his dirt and mud-stained tunic, fishing out the relic he kept hidden in his inner shirt pocket. It was a tiny emblem, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, gilded and still polished -- despite the hazards of the mess his job could cause -- and clearly etched on it's surface was a radiant sunburst. The sigil of The Children of Light. He didn't know how he could still hold the bloody thing without his hand burning. Either he hadn't walked too far into the shadow, and there was still hope for his rebirth and salvation, or..... He shuddered, not wanting to finish the though. Either that....or the Creator doesn't exist, he finished silently, wondering if it could still be considered blasphemy to think such, despite all of the terrible atrocities he had committed over the years. They had found him while he was young. Still inexperienced and unsure of himself or the world around him. Or, at least, that's what he liked to tell himself. At first they were just shadowy figures, who seemed to know things about him and his companions. Damning things, that nobody wanted known. So they'd pay him, and offer to keep his secrets, for a small price, of course. He just hadn't realized until too late that the price they preferred was to be paid in blood. But not his, no. Never his own blood. The blood of a darkfriend was too valuable to spill. Without a good enough reason, that was. Still, The Great Lord knew that he had left enough corpses behind, buried in shallow graves in his day to have any regrets left, he knew he was too far gone. The last person he killed, that's when he got the idea to start over, to try and find somewhere fresh and just.... try again. He had been digging the grave, the rusted spade digging into the earth with the ease of practice and experience, and he just remembered thinking to himself, Why, this is some perfectly good gravedigging dirt. And thus the idea was born. He immediately left the ranks of Whitecloaks, leaving behind his contacts in the network of friends of the dark that would keep tabs on him. He thought it ironic at the time, a child of the light fleeing in the dark of night. If only he had known. Gunshy arrived in the village of Drell's crossing months later, not a copper to his name, and more importantly, nobody who knew him or what he had done. It didn't take him long to get established as the town's residential expert on dirt, and soon he found people coming to his shop regularly for all of their gardening and dirt needs. He had even been happy for a while. Until The Forsaken came. He should've known there would be no running from his past, he just didn't expect it to catch up so fast. So here he still was, no way to remove himself from the situation this time. Trapped in the village that seemed to be tearing itself apart in their frustration and paranoia. What could he tell everyone, that he was just following orders? Nobody would believe that, and even if they did, would that excuse him from his crimes? Would it make a difference to them? Unlikely, he thought, and for good reason. So he sat behind the counter of his store, waiting for the day to end, and seeing what sort of chaos would be sown next. It was as the sun started setting that he heard the commotion from outside starting to die down, making him perk his head up and waiting to see what happened next. He already half knew what to expect. It was almost full night by the time the Mayor Jak led the ragtag group of villagers to surround him and his dirt store. One look at their faces told him what decision they had made. "Just use the dirt in the barrels out back to bury me in, if you wouldn't mind," Gunshy said, removing his coat and pulling the long-ago stained whitecloak sunburst out and setting it on the counter in front of him. "I dug that dirt up from the slopes of Dragonmount itself," he told them. "Figured I'd save it for a special occasion. And I can't think of any better reason than this." And with that, Gunshy let himself be led to the noose, his last thoughts of what to expect next. Was their hope for salvation, as the catechism always said, or was the Dark Lord of the Grave waiting for him, as he had been waiting for all of his victims throughout all of the years? Gunshy couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard a bit of laughter ringing in the darkest corners of his mind right before the blackness took over, and all became nothing. ---------------------------------- Gunshy was lynched! They were a Darkfriend Whitecloak! Jak is still Mayor of Drell's Crossing! Gunshy(8) - Elb, Lopen(+1), Jaime, Elodin, Seodin, Wilson, Rubix Elodin(5) - Straw, Bard, Winter, Sheep, Conquestor Bard - Nyali, Meta Straw - Gunshy Winter - Twei Hellscythe - Araris Mayor Votes: Jak - Meta, Seonid, Elb, Lopen, Elodin, Araris, Mailliw Meta - Stink, Jaime, Conquestor Wilson - Hael

Locking thread now! Please try and refrain from starting and continuing PMs until the new thread is up!

Just a heads up, there is ~5 hours and 40 minutes left in the cycle!

So I want to apologize for any errors or confusion in regards to any rulings or clarifications I have given, or anything misleading. I have been doing my best to keep on top of everything and keeping it all consistent. That is my bad, as GM, and I should've been more on top of things. With that said. Nobody, for any reason should ever copy & paste anything sent to them by the GM in the thread or to other players. If you have an issue, please take it up with the Impartial Mod for the game, that is why we have them. Apologies again, and I will keep doing my best to be as diligent as possible with everything going forward. Thank you.

Some updates/clarifications! Sorry, been trying to keep up on everything and figure out half of the role interactions on the fly and then half of it is me just trying to jump the gun and get any extra clarifications out there before they come up! XD But, that said.... While the Whitecloak is submitted during the day, it's basically a night action, so they couldn't be the one making the kill while detaining. Also, the Ta'veren would be told if their action failed, for whatever reason, but not why.Same with any other role. Players are told if they are detained, nobody else would be. If a player is killed by both the wolfkill and Darkfriend kill, it would show as much in the write-up (despite being overkill ) Any others? Just try bolding them or reposting any questions i might have missed. Apologies for any confusion. >.> There'd be no indication of a warder just dying right out, or them sacrificing themselves or not. Also, the events of the write-up itself don't reflect anything, it's just fanciful story telling. And if a kill were to happen and was unsuccessful, it wouldn't be mentioned in the write-up at all. Only protected kills.

Theyre informed at the day rollover, after the fact.

A quick update just to help with any clarifications! A player who was Detained is told that they were. Anybody who would target them would just get back "Unsuccessful". Sorry for any confusion regarding that.

IF you're not notified otherwise, assume it went through no problem! Also, A player needs at least 2 Dragon Fangs to get it scrawled on their door. Any ties would result in no Dragon Fang.

Write-up finally in! Hope you all enjoy! (Apologies if my Old Tongue is a little rusty!) Also, you will be told if you can create more PMs or not when the Night Cycle hits again! Edit: Updates in OP!

Long Game 22, Day 2: Al'Cair Ayend (The Golden Dead) The night came upon the village of Drell's Crossing quickly, the celebrations and rejoicing going well into the night, the villagers spirits on high after such a victory. Torches had been placed around all of the village green, allowing people to mingle and dance and listen to music and revel, almost as if to stave off the growing sense of unease and suspicion. The villagers might have had a small win, but one look at how them showed differently. Padan Fain knew better. They could see it in how the villagers still held themselves apart from each other, despite standing together in a group. Reading their body language was more than enough for Padan Fain. They had seen it countless times before. Yes, the Light had a triumph over evil and darkness, but Padan Fain was an entirely different force all together. And they wouldn't stop until the village tore itself apart in their hatred and paranoia. Fain raised their hands, the deadly fog of Mashadar slowly drifting up out of the ground around them, pooling around their feet in a shimmering, ghostly shroud. The mist knew where it was to go, and what needed to be done. Fain could feel it as it coiled out, reaching for it's unsuspecting victim. Tai'shar Aridhol, Fain giggled before he felt the sudden snap of pressure that let him know the job was done. One down, many, many more to go, they thought before slinking back into the shadows, hearing the rising howl of wolves crying out into the night. *** Locke walked down the darkened alleyway, crouching carefully and trying to avoid as much detection as possible. Such was the job of a warder, when necessary. Locke regretted not being able to wear his cloak, which helped him blend into his surroundings, the magical cloth was the perfect camouflage. He paused for a moment, dwelling on that thought. Light, but I'm supposed to be a Warder, not some slinking child who is helpless and defenseless. He might not have his cloak, but he was still a battle-hardened warder, coming from the Borderlands before being bonded to his channeler. Danger was no stranger to him, and he had the training and skills enough to not be frightened by the night, cloak or no cloak. He shifted again, moving closer to the wall and a crouching down between a pile of garbage that had been stacked up there and never moved. Locke would need to have a talk with the new, so-called mayor of this backwoods village about such clutter and uncleanliness. But Locke had a few more immediate priorities. A lone cloud passed out from in front of the moon, a full, shining orb casting it's light down upon the village, making the shadows recede a little bit and giving him better vision. He tried to ignore the sudden chorus of wolves, howling at the unveiled moon. Bloody ashes, but does that sound close. Light burn me if that's natural, he thought to himself, ignoring the sudden shiver that ran up his spine. Protecting his channeler was the only thing he'd let himself be worried about, though. He thought he heard a noise from down the alleyway behind him, so he spun around, quickly unsheathing his blade in a solid, fluid arc of flashing steel. His blade may of not had a heron mark on it, only one of the five blademasters who oversaw his test had failed him. His channeler liked to joke he was just simply four-fifths a blademaster, and that was good enough for them. They had no idea how much it rankled his pride. He took a step forward, peering intently down the shadowed alley, trying to pierce the darkness and see what had made the noise. He lamented on the fact he didn't have his warder cloak once again, but he would follow orders and not reveal himself for what he was until absolutely necessary. Locke stood there for a few moments, wishing the moon would come back out from behind the clouds, as he watched and waited for anything else to happen. After a while, he cursed himself for his foolishness, shaking his head and re-sheathing the blade, reminding himself to sharpen it once he got back to the inn, where he had been staying. So intent was he on the shadows in front of him, he didn't even hear the silently padded footfalls coming from behind him until it was too late, spinning to face his attacked as soon as the jaws closed in around his neck, as he felt the full weight of a wolf fall upon him. His last thoughts were worry and regret for his channeler. He didn't even see the golden eyes watching him from out of the shadows. *** Trafalgar Law had always been a night person. People had always liked to tease him about how he slept during the day and missed all of the excitement and action. They had no idea. He had always been fascinated with his dreams, ever since he was a young child. He would always record and catalogue his dreams, no matter how silly they seemed, no matter how random they appeared, he'd remember every single minute detail and could recall it with perfect clarity. Trafalgar had always known there was something special about those dreams, for he knew them to be true dreams. They meant something. And then, years ago, he had discovered another talent. At first he thought they were just another dream, if not as disjointed and random. But he kept going back to the same dream every night. He would always wake up in the same place he had gone to bed at. Everything was the same, but it was different though. Items would appear and disappear randomly, changing places or moving somewhere else. His bed would shift from being made, to being unmade. Stuff like that. He could never figure it out, but the whole place would also seem dim, while also being illuminated, some unseen light shining down and not hiding the world in shadows, despite it being night time. That was when he had heard of the legends of Tel'aran'rhiod, and knew for a fact he was in the World of Dreams, spoken about in stories dating back to the Age of Legends. He had also learned to be careful, in his studies. It didn't take him long to realize that anything that happened to him in the strange world of dreams would stay with him when he awoke. Cuts, scrapes, bruises and broken bones. He had even been dragged into other people's nightmares before, barely surviving and sustaining serious injuries. No, he knew how dangerous Tel'aran'rhiod could be. Especially in Drell's Crossing at night. The place had seemed... strange lately. Well, even more strange than usual, at the very least. The place seemed.... darker. As if it had more weight, and would press down on him, as if trying to bury him under some great, unseen pressure. He had tried avoiding the place ever since glimpsing shadows moving out of the corner of his eye. So he didn't sleep these last few nights, not letting the horrible nightmares that plagued him at night get him in the grips of fear. For these dreams were true dreams. And he kept seeing the same thing these last few nights. Golden eyes, coming out of the shadows, swelling up larger and larger before they overcame him and swallowed him whole. He didn't need to go to Tel'aran'rhiod to be able to interpret that one. So he slept during the days, staying away from everyone, hiding himself away in his ramshackle shed. And at night... he would just explore. He had gotten so used to walking around the town at night in the world of dreams, that he couldn't break the habit, even if he was still wide awake. And that's how he found himself on the village green, hours after everyone else who was sensible had fallen asleep, the celebrations and reveling going well late into the night. A bloody forsaken, Trafalgar mused to himself, not being able to believe one of the stories his parents used to use to scare him as a child had come to life right in this very village. He wondered if that was who he had seen in the World of Dreams, stalking around the village and hiding in the shadows? It made as much sense as anything he could think of. A sudden howl, followed by a strangled shout broke him out of his thoughts, and he realized for the first time that he was completely alone, with darkness seeming to press in around him, hiding anything in the night. A low, drifting fog had started to slowly appear hours ago, blanketing the entire village in the small shroud of mist, making it hard to see anything in front of him. He saw two torches burning brightly through the fog up ahead, and he called out to see if anybody was there. He seemed to have gotten himself turned around and lost in his quick burst of panic. So he started making his way to the two glowing torches, their light seeming to shine golden in the foggy night. He had the sudden sense of having experienced this before, and another wave of panic took over him again, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He now ran headlong to the two golden points of light ahead of him with reckless abandon, wishing he was in the world of dreams where he could just flash away to wherever he wanted to go. He was so absorbed in reaching his destination that he didn't even stop to think about how the two points of light never moved or wavered or flickered like a steady flame would. No, he realized too late that they were in fact golden eyes, and then were coming up out of the darkness, coming to swallow him whole. Just like he had dreamed. *** Morning had come over Drell's Crossing once again, the sun rising like a gilded ball of light and life. The whitecloak walked over to the cell door, pulling the lock out of their pocket and pulling back the bars. They had blindfolded their victim, of course. One could never trust any potential darkfriends, of course. "You are no longer being detained. You are free to go," They said, grabbing the prisoner and hauling them up to their feet and cutting them loose from their bonds and removing the blindfold before shoving them out the door. "Have a good day, and walk in the light" -------------------------------------------- Deathclutch was killed by Wolves! He was a Villager Dreamwalker! Orlok was killed by Wolves! He was a Villager Warder! Somebody was Detained by Whitecloaks! Mashadar made it's presence known, somebody was Corrupted. Day 2 will last 48hours, until 11PM EST Tuesday, June 7th! Remember, No more PMs between players during the Day cycle! You must stop PM'ing as soon as the Night Cycle ends! [will edit in player list shortly] Edit: Updates! Players who are Protected are not notified if they weren't attacked. They'd be told if both attacked and protected. That would also be mentioned in the write-up (but not who and from what) Players who are detained are notified they were detained, and Whitecloaks are also told who they detained (or not, if nobody). It will not specify if the Warder was attacked themselves, or if they died protecting their Channeler. It just says how they died.

Night 1 is over! Locking thread and tracking actions and results! Will get thread posted as soon as possible!

Fain corrupts players and they join Fain in the Doc that they have. And any darkfriends that get corrupted will have two possible wincons.

Some quick updates! Whitecloak detain actions are noted in the Night Cycle when they happen. I know they submit their action during the day, but it doesn't go into effect until the Night. Also, if a Channeler were to burn themselves out, then when they become a 'vanilla', it severs the bond between them and their Warder, making the warder become a vanilla player as well. That also means they can't share PMs anymore either. There's probably a handful of questions I've missed/glossed over, so I'll keep trying to get them updated when I can. Also eventually updating the OP with these rules and player list whenever I can get around to it! (digging through all the PMs now.... >.> ) Edit: New update If a Warder is detained while their Channeler gets attacked and would die, then the Warder would not be able to protect them, and the Channeler would die, thus giving the Warder 2 cycles left to live. (And by 2 cycles I mean two full rotations of Day & Nights)

Got the write-up edited in (finally!), apologies for it looking like crap right now, the post didn't want to format, apparently. >.> So I'll try getting it fixed her shortly. A little bit under 7hours until the Night ends! Don't forget to submit your actions, or if you're not taking any, still let me know with 'No action', and try and post what cycle the action is for as well when submitting them, just to help me keep track of it all! Thank you!

Long Game 22, Night 1: The Dark One's Luck Sarah Tea awoke from her nightmare, able to recall it completely in perfect detail. Mostly because it hadn't been a dream, or at least not in the normal sense. She could remember the feel of the heat coming off the flowing lake of liquid fire, could still smell the stench of sulfur and death that lingered in the air. The glory and radiance of basking in the Great Lord's own presence at Shayol Ghul. And the terror. She had been summoned, and as a Chosen, she knew better than to refuse, even if the myrddraal that had come for her had been equally unnerving as the summons itself. Whoever heard of a fade taller than the rest? Even worse, when she had tried channeling, she felt... nothing. No shield, no weaves blocking her off from the source, it was worse than being in a stedding, since then at least she would know why. But the myyrddaal, giving the name of Shaidar Haran -- The Hand of the Dark-- was almost as terrifying as the Great Lord requesting her presence. She sat up from her bed, the memories of the dream slowly receding, but her instructions remaining clearly embedded in her mind. She felt a slight pressure wash over her body, as if somebody had grabbed ahold of her and started slowly squeezing, trying to crush her beneath the great, unseen weight. She shivered uncontrollably. Her cour'souvra, the Mind Trap being used as leverage against her, left absolutely no room for thoughts of disobedience. < "Let the Lord of Chaos rule" Those were her instructions. And although she wasn't sure why, or how she was stuck in this backwards village, trapped in these barbaric times, she still knew her mission. And failure was not an option. Her and her fellow friends of the dark had done a great job so far in Drell's Crossing. She could feel the paranoia and mistrust slowly eating away at the heart of the town, worming itself down into the very core of it's citizens. She wished she knew who had been the one to kill the mayor, a stroke of genius, that. Either way, it had helped plunge the town into chaos, just as her master wished. So she would help spread that sickness as far as she could. She got dressed for the day, hating the common appearance she had to adopt to fit in in this poor excuse of a village, and made her way to the local inn -- The Golden Dagger -- to see where things stood for the day. The townsfolk were in an uproar, just shouting at each other and hurling insults, and Sarah could feel the tension building up slowly to a boiling point. More than a few fists were clenched, and she could easily see things coming to blows before too long. Perfect. There were a few fools who loudly claimed that they should be the one's to lead in these times ahead, each one decrying the other candidates and accusing them of suspicious activity. Yes, this town was ready for blood. She took a sip of her tea that had been delivered to her without ordering it, but didn't question, despite the slightly minty taste that made her grimace. She slid gracefully off of the bar stool, making her way across the room, aware of the effect her swaying hips would have had on the men in the room, and made her way to the person she perceived to be in charge. But Jak was already making his way to her, it appeard, a triumphant smile on his face. "Meet the newest Mayor," Jak said, greeting her. Sarah went to reply, calling his competency into question, but it felt like she had to force the thought through a dense fog, losing the thoughts as they formed. The shock must have appeared on her face, as the realization slowly dawned on her. She couldn't feel the Source! "Just a little something from the village Wisdom," Jak said, smiling even more broadly. "We weren't sure if it'd even worked, but why take the risk, just in case? Light bless whoever discovered Forkroot tea," was the last thing Sarah heard before her knees gave out and everything faded to black. She awoke next to the village surrounding her, the sun was setting in the background, the twilit sky bleeding into a dark, deep crimson. The color of blood. "See how she changed form after we dosed her with the tea?" Jak said to the growing crowd. "Proof she is a channeler, at the very least, and one skilled at deception. So before we send her off to the light, we give her one chance to admit guilt and ease the burden of darkness holding her soul!" How generous, she thought furiously, straining against her bonds, snarling at the filthy peasants in front of her. How dare they! I am Chosen! But then another thought had crept into her mind.... what if the Great Lord had abandoned her? "Shaitain curse you all!" She screamed out, roaring her final defiance. "I am Chosen! The darkness may be held back by the light for now, but eventually that flame will be extinguished, and then all will be nothing!" She screamed out once more, a wordless rage that reached a crescendo as the flames started to slowly lick their way up the stake she was tied to. She had the sudden thought to laugh, as she felt wave of icy coldness wash over her. Of course, the one who held her mindtrap wouldn't let her suffer too much, needlessly. Just enough. "The grave is no bar to the Great Lord! He is the Lord of the Grave! I will be back one day, and I will haunt all of you in your dreams! I will torment and torture every single one of you, and that is my promise!" The roar of the flames eventually washed everything else out and overwhelmed her with the smoke. Her final thoughts before the blackness took over were, May the Lord of Chaos rule. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Sarah Tea was lynched! She was a Forsaken Jak was voted mayor of Drell's Crossing! Sart (8): Wilson, Meta, Elbereth, Strawman, Orlok, Lopen(+1), Winter Strawman (5): Jaime, Bugsy, Elodin, Conquest, Sart Deathclutch: Hellscythe Phatt: Nyali Seonid: Araris Sheep: Young Bard, Stink, Rubiks Elodin: Twei Lopen: Sheep Meta: Mailliw Mayor Votes: Jak - Lopen, Sart, Stink, Rubiks Elbereth - Mailliw, Young Bard, Elbereth Meta - Wilson, Conquestor Mailliw - Orlok, Jaime Elodin - Winter, Elodin Conquestor - Meta Hellscythe -Hellscythe Night 1 will last 24 hours, until 10:30PM Est Sunday, June 5th! (or if all night actions get sent in earlier than that!)

Locking thread now! Expect write-up in an hour....ish or so. Got a huge flaming thread to pour over. Note that I will be keeping an eye on what times any edits were made, and am not counting any votes or vote changes made after 9:00. See y'all on the other side! And yes, mother's milk in a cup! One hell of a starting Day 1, with 14 pages!!! Thank you so much everybody, and I hope the game stays as animated as this the whole time through!

Finish your typing now while you can, folks! (I'll give the time of a cigarette break for people to finish typing any posts they're working on, just because there's so bloody many of you in the thread right now! Expect thread lock in ~5mins.

Oh, missed the one question asked earlier. Warders and Channelers can start PMs between each other at any point during the game, so from the start of Day1 if they so choose to. I can neither confirm nor deny some players having more than one role or not. And 15 minutes! It'll take me a while to get through everything and get the write-up and rollover figured out, so let's just safely say 10pm EST is probably a safe bet of when Night 1 will start. (Gamma has a hangover...)

27 minutes left in the Day!

Just uncolor them from orange back to black. I'll only count orange votes at the end of the cycle for mayor.